AT THE WINSTED DINER, THE JOKES ARE FREE

KEVIN CANFIELD; Courant CorrespondentTHE HARTFORD COURANT

Although he jokes that the stools at the Winsted Diner are "small, hard and too close to the counter," at least once a week lifelong resident Bob Jones can be found in the tiny Main Street restaurant polishing off a mid-afternoon snack.

Each Thursday, after having lunch with friends at the local senior center and running a few errands, Jones makes his way to the diner for some chili or a western omelette and maybe some pudding for dessert.

"The food is very good -- and very reasonably priced," said Jones, his knees tucked firmly beneath the marble counter that has welcomed customers since the diner was opened by Louis and Edward Venezia in 1931.

Four decades later, in 1973, town natives Bob and Carol Radocchio bought the business. The family has run the diner since. The couple's daughter, Trudy Gillette, minds the store from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. while Bob and Carol take the other shifts.

Everything from the diner's decor -- a four-wall collage of newspaper clippings, magazine articles and handwritten signs -- to the menu, which features the Ra-Doc-A-Doodle egg sandwich, has been customized.

"This is not Burger King," reads the sign over the eatery's six-decade-old grill. "You don't get it your way. You take it my way or you don't get the damn thing."

The diner opens at 2 a.m. on Monday through Wednesday and at 10 p.m. the rest of the week, closing at 4 p.m. each afternoon except Sunday, when closing comes at noon. Partly because of its quirky schedule, the diner is a favorite among those who work second or third shift.

For Mark Louis, a retired trucker who moved here from Stockton, Calif., two years ago, having a restaurant that he can rely on nearby is a necessity. He eats at the Radocchios' four or five times a week.

"I don't cook at home," Louis said, " and this is the best place to eat in town."

One man who agrees with Louis is Ottmar Filous.

In 1961, Filous, then 21, left his home in Hamburg, Germany, and moved to New Milford "just to see what was going on." Eighteen years ago Filous relocated to Norfolk, the home base for his Final Touch landscaping company. On this day, as Filous prepared to down his baconburger and french fries, he confessed to eating at the diner on an almost daily basis.

"Sometimes twice a day," added Bob Radocchio.

That Radocchio should interject himself into a conversation between two people seated at his counter is not surprising. Whether it's accompanying the voice of Neil Diamond as it emits from a small radio in the corner or retelling jokes that seem as old as the diner itself, Bob Radocchio is often either talking or singing.

Filous, an avowed regular, loves the place. What about the times when the owner takes to crooning? "Then it's different," Filous joked.

To hear Bill Knight tell it, Radocchio's vocal stylings are part of the reason he stops at the diner about four times a week.

Knight is blind and gets around the neighborhood near his Union Street home with the help of a long walking stick. "All the way down, Bill," Bob Radocchio tells Knight as he enters the diner, alerting him that the first few seats are occupied.

"This may sound strange," Knight said, "but it's the social atmosphere" that draws people to the diner. "People that are regulars like me are in just about every day."

Knight is one who exchanges frequent lighthearted barbs with the owners, who wouldn't have it any other way. "We raise Cain with everybody and they give it back," said Carol Radocchio, who was quick to add of Knight and his fellow regulars: "We love 'em."